Think Tank
by Rainbowscape
Summary: Something has been interfering with the systems of the Leviathan. John and Aeryn investigate.
1. Unusual

**DISCLAIMER**: Farscape and all the characters of Farscape are the property of Jim Henson productions, Nine Network Australia, Hallmark Entertainment and the Sci-Fi Channel and are used without permission for free entertainment only.

**SPOILERS**: From the Premiere to Nerve.--December 1999

**TIMELINE:** Sometime near the latter half of Season 1.

**A/N:** _I was playing a little game when I wrote this chapter. Did you note anything unusual about it? And yes, this story does have more chapters.:)_

**Feedback:** _Yes, please._

**1**

It was an unusual day. Unusual because nothing strange or even life threatening had happened. Unusual because day-to-day life aboard Moya the Leviathan, an actual living starship, was the unusual.

In the maintenance bay, John grinned to himself as he walked around Farscape One, fine tuning some of the modifications he had made to the craft. He was feeling rather proud of himself. Hey, he had bodily gone where no human had gone before! And with things being so unusual today, he actually had time to enjoy the thought. _I, E.T. If only Dad could see me now!_ Normally, there was one big crisis after another. If it wasn't space bugs, it was running from Peacekeepers, if it wasn't running from Peacekeepers, it was fighting intelligent viruses or a DNA mad scientist, or becoming unstuck in time, or being 'Jeremiah' Crichton marooned on a paradise planet that wasn't as perfect as it seemed, or outsmarting bounty hunters, or trying to avoid getting beat up by D'argo or Aeryn or verbally whipped by one of his irritated shipmates or any other number of experiences he would never have even thought were possible until he had become lost in this place. Lost in space.

But despite the constant threat of danger, how fun it was to come to the edge of destruction and pull out in the nick of time. What an adrenaline rush! John was still soaring high from the last close encounter and he felt so good he simply had to share it with someone else, "Pilot!" he transmitted through his small gold-colored communicator. "How's it goin'?"

"Exactly the same as when you asked half an arn ago," Pilot replied as his large purple head and placid brown eyes appeared within a clamshell holographic projector. Pilot reminded Crichton somewhat of a hatching dinosaur. The top of his head looked like the smooth eggshell a hatchling might wear. Although, it spread out more like a mushroom umbrella. "All of Moya's systems are functioning smoothly," Pilot informed him. "I am running a system check of the ventilation and environmental systems." Due to Moya's pregnancy, things did not always function as they should and D'argo had been avidly complaining of gel seeping from the walls of his quarters. "Is there something that concerns you?" Pilot asked, clearly busy, but as always anxious to offer assistance, whether it was to assist in a scientific puzzle or a simple chat.

"Nope!" John paused in his work and slapped his knee, chuckling. "That's what's so great about this day!" Unusual because so far absolutely no one aboard Moya was refusing to speak with him because of some idiotic thing he had done or said. Although Chiana might have something to do with that. She had taken away his status of newcomer and now bore the brunt of most of the others' negative attention. He wasn't sure if she could be trusted either, but that was another worry for another day. "Are you doing great, Pilot?"

A clearly puzzled expression crossed the variegated purple face. "I am fine, Commander Crichton. Thank you for asking. Are you certain you are alright?"

"Never better." Unusual because, without begging, he had invited Aeryn to help him work on this project and she had accepted. Well, she wasn't here yet. Maybe she had changed her mind, but with the way things were going today he leaned more towards the optimistic. John went back to work and as he worked he hummed a merry tune. He held a small piece the size of a quarter, the same golden color as Moya. It was warm to the touch and he slid it into place on his craft's engine. It was a biomechanoid component that Moya and Pilot had allowed him to use to juice up his spacecraft.

He was still working thus when Aeryn arrived. She walked up to him and gazed for a moment over his shoulder. Her dark hair was pulled back, but a few dark strands had escaped and fell charmingly around her ears. She wore a grey tank top and black pants. She stood, shoulders squared, hands behind her back, and clicked her tongue. "You're doing it wrong," she informed him as she watched him fiddle with the small component he was adjusting on the shuttle.

"What?" John asked, incredulously. He stopped humming.

"You placed it in backwards," Aeryn explained, briskly.

"Look Aeryn...I'm the scientist here and I think I would know..." His voice trailed off as he looked back at her and saw her expression.

Aeryn raised her eyebrows and shot him the Crichton-you-idiot-look and insisted, slowly, "Simply take a look at it!"

John looked down at the piece and, lo and behold, it was in backwards. Strike one. "Well, burst my bubble, why don't you? This is supposed to be a good day." He picked up a tool and yanked at the piece in an attempt to remove it.

"What bubble?" Aeryn asked, seriously.

The added component stubbornly refused to be removed. John blinked twice, reminding himself not be upset. He was determined this was going to continue to be a GOOD day. "No. Burst my bubble. It's an expression. It means..." He stumbled through the explanation as he tried to correct the mistake he had made. Would the stupid little piece come off?

"Crichton, you shouldn't...." Aeryn's voice warned him. "If you would simply let me..."

"Naah, I can do it," John interrupted, cockily. "Ouch!" John yelped as an electric charge traveled up his tool and shocked his hand and arm. "Why didn't you tell me that?" John shouted in pain, dropping the tool. "It stings. Why doesn't anybody ever tell me stuff like that?"

A crease appeared in Aeryn's brow. "You did ask for my help but far be it from to offer a piece of advice where it is disregarded and obviously not wan--"

Strike two. Never blame a Peacekeeper for anything. Especially if it's your own fault. He rubbed his arm and realized the feeling was starting to come back. He picked up the tool. "Alright, Aeryn. Here. If you think you can do it better." He handed over his tool and stepped to one side to let her try.

Aeryn took the tool with an expression John was unable to read. She stepped over to the work bench and laid it down. She opened a tool box and slipped one hand into a black glove she procured from there, and then returned to John's craft. She leaned over and with one deft twist she pulled off the backwards component. She held it up to him. "It's a biomechanoid component. Sensitive. It resists harsh methods." She flipped it over, and with another twist secured it in place. A DRD moved in with a miniature welding tool to finish the job. Aeryn straightened once more, slipped off the glove and placed it in John's hand. Her deep blue eyes gleamed with amusement. After all, he had challenged her to do it better. "There you are, Crichton. What next?"

"Well, Aeryn. I guess I need another lesson in biomechanoid technology," John said sheepishly.

Chiana's voice piped up behind them suddenly. "You two playing nice?"

They turned to the newest resident of Moya with surprise and a slight undercurrent of irritation. "Aren't you supposed to be pest--helping Zhaan with something?" John asked.

Chiana's dark eyes gleamed with mischief. "I'd much rather....help you," the pale-colored Nebari girl replied with a tilt of her head and a lilt in her voice.

"You can't help, pip. Much too complicated," John said.

"Why? I'm a good....problem solver." Chiana always liked to draw her words out and add strange inflections to them. She tapped her forehead to emphasize her point and smiled. Her amused expression was partly hidden by her shock of white hair.

Aeryn said, "Where is Zhaan, by the way?" She distrusted the girl before them and it was Zhaan's turn to keep an eye on her. She stared pointedly at the mischief maker.

"Rygel said you were....working on....a project." Chiana giggled secretively. She sprang to the work bench with the agility of a feline and began doing a gymnast routine. "Only he didn't tell me....what it was." She pretended to pout, but her smile soon reappeared.

Aeryn glared at Chiana for not answering the question, but Chiana continued as if her story was the most interesting in the universe, "We were in the galley. He was eating and drinking and then all of a sudden--" Chiana paused to leap off of the bench and do a somersault. "He started snoring and his head fell. Plop!" She demonstrated the motion. "Right into a pile of food in the middle of his story. Which reminded me of a time when I was a stowaway..."

"SILENCE!" Aeryn shouted. She wasn't taking anymore of this nonsense. She spoke into her communicator. "Aeryn to Zhaan." No response. A look of worry crept into the lines around her mouth. "Aeryn to Zhaan, please respond." No calm voice of reassurance answered her.

John tried. "Crichton to Zhaan. D'argo? Anybody? Hello-o-o."

Still no response. The sounds of Moya, the constant pulses and rhythms of the living ship, sounded strangled. Stifled. Distressed.

John gave Chiana a questioning look and Chiana returned it by sticking out her tongue. "Keep trying if you like, but--it won't work," Chiana informed them both belatedly, clapping her hands like a jester at some secret joke.

"Why won't it work?" John asked, taking a threatening step towards her.

"I thought you didn't want my help." Chiana smirked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"One more smart remark out of you, brat, and I'll--" Aeryn began.

Chiana suddenly became cooperative and momentarily, serious. Apparently, her little Catwoman versus two blind mice game had lost its appeal. "The comms are out and we don't know why. Zhaan sent me to ask you two to come to Command."


	2. Communication

**A/N: **_R&R if you like. My game continues in this chapter, it might go completely over the heads of anyone who didn't watch Season One of Farscape, but, oh well. I must have been amusing myself when I added it because it has nothing to do with the story. Enjoy!_

**2**

"Aeryn. John. I'm glad you could join us." The Delvian, looking like a rhapsody in blue robes, nodded in greeting when they arrived. She stood at a console apparently trying to make sense of Moya's readings. "Pilot says we've developed a problem with the communication's system."

"What took you so long?" D'argo asked, gruffly. He was wearing his normal flame colored attire and the Qualta blade rested in the sheath behind his back.

"We seem to have developed _several_ communications' problems," John said, dragging Chiana into the room by her arm and then letting go. "You. Sit." He pointed to the floor. "Stay right there."

Chiana huffed and complied.

Aeryn rushed over to speak with Pilot and look at the read out on the console. "Why aren't the comms working?"

"I am trying to determine that, Officer Sun," said Pilot. His holographic image looked distorted. "In fact, Moya is tracking the source of these interruptions now, but is hampered by the disruptions that are occurring. They are irritating to her." Pilot grimaced as a small tremor they all felt ran through the ship.

"The source," Aeryn asked, breathlessly. "What source?"

"I told you it wasn't me!" Chiana smiled. "I don't see why everyone always has to suspect me. If you ask me--"

"WE DIDN'T!" they all shouted, silencing her.

"The interference the source is causing seems to be coming from outside of the ship," said Pilot. "But the direction is diff--" His image flickered out for a moment and then restored itself. "...to determine."

A growl rumbled in D'argo's throat. "Is there a ship?" he asked, anxiously.

"If there is a ship," Zhaan stated calmly. "Then, it may be sending out a jamming signal which would interfere with our communications." The Delvian turned to the Luxan warrior and inclined her head towards him. "A good suggestion, D'argo. See if you can locate one, Pilot."

"Scanning," Pilot said, looking skeptical. "Negative. Moya detects no ships in the area."

"Well." John spoke up. "Maybe there's a planet with a transmitter."

"Would anyone like to know what I _think_?" piped Chiana.

"NO!" was the unanimous vote of the room.

"Pilot," Aeryn said, closing her eyes for a moment in concentration. "Try to filter out the static you're getting and focus on the signal from the source." Her eyelids flew open but now her eyes had taken on a distant look. She swallowed hard before continuing and shut her eyes once more. "Then....follow it." Ever since she had received some of Pilot's DNA she seemed to have a deeper, almost second nature, understanding of Pilot and his symbiotic relationship with Moya.

"I'll do my best," said Pilot. His image flickered out completely this time.

"Arghhhhh!" D'argo began to scream suddenly clapping his hands to both sides of his head.

"D'argo what's the--" John began and then was sorry he'd asked. A loud high-pitched squawk suddenly pierced his own hearing and he shuddered with the rest of his similarly disturbed crewmates, leaning against one of Moya's walls for support as Moya lurched violently.

The sound ended as quickly as it began. Aeryn opened her eyes and with relief saw Pilot's face had appeared once more. This time without distortion or static. She had grabbed a console for support. She let go of it now and looked questioningly at Pilot.

Pilot nodded his large head. "I apologize for not warning you all. It was not possible to inform you that a change in comm frequency was necessary. I managed to trace the source of the interference. Scans revealed that there is a structure floating in space not far from our position. It had established a link with the communication's systems and its signal caused the distortions. We have just severed the link."

John thought the ringing in his ears would never stop. "You did that?"

"Yes...well rather, Moya did. All ship's communication systems should be fully restored."

As if to affirm that, Rygel's groggy, outraged voice suddenly came over their comms. "Whoever disturbed my slumber better a have a royal good reason for it!"

Zhaan grabbed her wrist to speak softly into her comm. "We do, Rygel. I assure you. Please join us in on the command deck as soon as possible. We've had a problem."

Aeryn looked out of the command deck through the viewport at the stars. Searching them. A crease formed on her brow. She looked grave. "It might be a base of some kind. Can you get a visual, Pilot?" she requested.

"Why did it link with our communications?" D'argo asked, baring his teeth.

"Checking," said Pilot. "We should be in visual range within eight microts, Officer Sun. I am sorry, but I am unable to establish the reason for the link since it has been severed. It caused no residual damage to any systems. I can create for you a representation with Moya's sensor data," he spoke tentatively.

Aeryn nodded assent.

The visual grid projected upwards from the console and the structure appeared. It was huge, thin and shaped like a prism with four surfaces. The coloring of its walls were a dim greenish coloration that once had been a metallic color now deteriorated with age. They gave off an eerie luminescent glow. The projection spun allowing the crew to get a view of it from all angles.

"This is odd," said Pilot. "I am detecting no life forms present within the structure."

"It's a trick!" said D'argo, pacing around the deck. "Something jammed our communications. Someone must be there."

"Not necessarily, D'argo," Zhaan chided, gently. "There is no reason to remain upset. Perhaps our scanners are impaired by its walls or it was simply an automated transmission. Evidently, something detects us. It will do us no harm to signal our peaceful intent."

"In this case, Zhaan, I agree with D'argo. I mean, when have we ever run into anyone or anything that just wanted to wish us a good day?" John asked. He was starting to feel apprehension. Feel? No, he could taste it!

"We present no threat to them," Zhaan said, quietly.

"Yeah, but do they present any threat to us?" John asked. Nine times out of ten, the answer was yes. And if not yes, then, "Is there someone on their tail that could present a threat to us because they think we're in league with them?" Whoa, where had that come from? Had he just said 'in league' with them? Must have been some leftover lingo he'd picked up when pretending to be a Peacekeeper captain.

Aeryn's eyes were still fixed upon the structure. She stood straight and still. "Do you detect weapons, Pilot?"

"I cannot say with certainty," Pilot replied with a slight frown. Moya's engines slowed. "The structure is powered and the materials its walls are constructed from are a substance that Moya has never encountered before. We are now matching its course and speed. It should now be visible on the forward view."

This sparked the crew's curiosity. Necks craned to observe this unique structure at its full size. When Zhaan suggested signaling again, no one raised any objections.

"Transmission sent," Pilot informed them. And a moment later, "Incoming transmission. Audio only."

"Well, let's hear it!" said John.

_CLICK CLICK. CLICK. CLICKETY-CLICK_.

And then, the clicks resolved into words, blaring over their comms: "KA D'ARGO. DOMINAR RYGEL THE SIXTEENTH. ZOTAH ZHAAN. OFFICER AERYN SUN. COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. CHIANA." The crew listened to the shrill voice that echoed this eerie salutation. "GREETINGS, CREW OF MOYA, I'VE BEEN AWAITING YOUR ARRIVAL."

"Stop shouting! Who are you?" growled D'argo, stamping his feet. "And how is it you know us when we do not know you?"

Panic quivered through the air.

Cut the transmission, John motioned Pilot the message with his hands.

Pilot did so instantly.

"That settles it!" hissed Aeryn. Without further explanation, she marched off the command deck and nearly bumped into Rygel who was approaching in his floating throne sled. Wasting no words, she shoved him and his chair aside and continued onward on a beeline course for her pulse rifle.

Concern creased her brow. Someone knew far too much about them and they knew far too little about the whatever-it-was, so she intended to even the odds. She was glad now she hadn't (how would John put it?) cut corners and gone directly to the maintenance bay to help John with _Farscape One_ despite the temptation she had to felt to come sooner. Putting first things first, she had stuck to her well-disciplined training and cleaned the pulse rifle meticulously, reassembling it completely and stowing it away where others' hands (especially Hynerion and Nebari) would not readily find it. Setting her comm to monitor further communications from her crewmates on the command deck, she walked briskly through Moya's corridors to retrieve the cherished weapon.


	3. Speculation

**3**

Rygel righted his chair from where it had been thrown. For a loss of words, he sputtered incoherent insults at Aeryn's departing back. He sailed onto the command deck in very bad temper. "Someone must tell me what is happening!" he demanded, slapping the arm of his chair with his fist.

"Hush, Rygel," said Zhaan.

"I don't know how," Pilot said. "But the transmission is now communicating directly with Moya's systems. Requesting us to change our frequency back to the original setting and promising not to cause the interference it did before."

"Why should we?" D'argo began to say.

"Transmission? What transmission?" Rygel blinked bleary eyes. "If we were to start trade negotiations, I should have been informed," he grumbled.

Zhaan gasped suddenly and everyone on deck looked at her. "I think," she was murmuring something unintelligible to anyone but herself. She looked up swiftly. "Allow it," she told Pilot.

"What?" John asked. "Zhaan, what are you doing?"

Zhaan was giving them a calm smile. "Don't worry, John. Rygel. D'argo. Aeryn, you may want to listen to this," she spoke for a moment into her comlink. "I think I may know what it is we are dealing with presently."

"Oh goody," said Chiana. She adjusted to sitting Indian-style on the floor and rested her chin on her hands. "Do tell!"

"Yes, tell us already!" Rygel sniffed.

"There are tales of an ancient race called the K'djrites who traveled the universe in search of knowledge and that this race built huge machines and programmed these to gather and store vast amounts of information. These machines were sent to the farthest reaches of spaces with a singular purpose. To gather a summation of knowledge and wisdom of other races throughout the universe. I was always told that no such machines existed. That it was a mere myth," Zhaan's voice trailed off and she simply stared into space, thinking long thoughts. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

"Vast amounts of information?" echoed Rygel. His eyes gleamed, greedily. "_Useful _information?"

"Such as the locations of our home worlds?" D'argo caught the Hynerian's train of thought.

"Or a chart of the Uncharted Territories?" Aeryn's voice suggested over their comms.

Chiana yawned. "The knowledge of the universe at your fingertips and you choose _that_? What a fun mob I hang out with! Are all your minds this _dim_inutive?" No one listened to her disparaging remark. Their expressions were bright. Their eyes shone with hope.

A wide grin spread across John's face. "A machine that's programmed? But there was a voice that just was talking to us. You're saying it's a computer? A super smart supercomputer that thinks!" John gushed. "And contains a galactic library, so to speak." Now, here was science! He clapped his hands together once.

Zhaan raised a hand in warning. "Do not raise your hopes too high, John. We do not know for certain."

The astronaut grinned. "Well, put this radio back on two-way and let's find out, why don't we?" John rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Switching frequency back to original setting and opening a channel...now!" spoke Pilot as the hologram of his head in the shell-shaped projector disappeared.

"You will hear me now, Crew of Moya?" the strange disembodied voice came through crisply and only a faint machine hiss whirred beneath it. Each of the words echoed eerily causing it to seem as if each word hung in the air after it was spoken.

"Uh huh," John assumed the position of spokesperson for the group. He stood looking at the clamshell, struggling to contain his inward excitement and appear competent. "Look. We seem to be at a disadvantage seeing that you know all of our names. Would you mind introducing yourself?"

"And explaining why you disrupted communications?" Aeryn added, striding onto the command deck with her pulse rifle strapped to her side. The first rule before going into battle was: Know your enemy. Thus far she had only heard Zhaan's speculation...and that might be wrong. Whoever was speaking simply knew _too_ much about them.

D'argo met her eyes in agreement. He evidently shared her suspicions. "And show us your face?" he grunted. "I like to see who I'm dealing with."

There was an irritating hissing noise followed by garbled syllables and noises that reminded John of a wild western shoot out.

A pause ensued. Then, the voice explained with machine-like crispness, "What I am called is not pronounceable by your mere translator microbes, Crichton." There was a clicking sound and then, "I was monitoring your communications to gather more information about you as I am programmed to do to all ships which pass within my scanning range, Sun." Another faint whir. "In monitoring your communications for the past three days I learned information. The disruption to your comms was initiated in order to alter your course and bring you here." There was another click and inside the open clamshell appeared the huge prism structure. "I am not a biologically based life form and do not have the face you speak of, D'argo."

"That thing has been monitoring all our communications for the past three days!" D'argo growled. "How come you did not know about this?" he accused Pilot.

"Moya and I could not know because it only became detectable a few arns ago," Pilot replied, defensively. "When the comms stopped working. I suggest you stop pointing fingers and seek information from someone who obviously knows more about it than I."

"I was constructed by a civilization far beyond your own," the probe with the unpronounceable name told them. "Delvian. Nebari. Luxan. Human. Sebacean. Hynerian." A pause. "Yes, it is confirmed my store of knowledge is vastly more than each sample of your species possesses."

"You also lack basic social skills," Rygel added. "I am nobody's sample!"

"You exist and cohabitate with Moya. My logistic indicators tell me that is not a usual arrangement. Therefore I conjecture that this is an experiment. Your actions are monitored so that the observers of the experiment may check to see what happens to you on a weekly basis, learning the intricate details of your life as you face predicaments together, and predicting where you will go in the future, Crew of Moya," the icy voice of the machine replied.

"That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard!" Rygel harrumphed. "You make it sound as if the whole reason we all exist is simply to entertain someone else."

Zhaan decided to ignore the insult to her 812 cycles of life experience and follow a more fruitful line of questioning, "Then, you do have knowledge of our races? Of our home planets?"

"Irrelevant, Zhaan," the probe replied. "Crew of Moya, you have reached your quota of irrelevant questions. Your mission is to evade the forces of Captain Bialar Crais and find a permanent residence. Affirmative?"

"Well, I-- yeah, I guess," John replied, scratching his head. "How come you know so much about that?"

"I have monitored many communications channels. Enough irrelevant questions. New program initiated, Crew of Moya. Prepare to board." On one side of the prism a thin line began to glow and suddenly a piece of its wall folded downwards converting into a landing platform.

"Board?" John asked, crossing his arms. His blue eyes brimmed with skepticism. "You're kidding, right?"

"Crew of Moya, this is your program. You will land upon my maintenance platform and board. Then, proceed immediately to repair my maintenance bots which have stopped responding to the system. Accept program."

"What? You mean you haven't got a control, alt, delete?" John chuckled. He laughed alone. He realized the others didn't seem to think this was funny and tried to explain, "So you can quit and reboot. It's a feature of Earth computers."

"Reboot?" Aeryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at her own black boots, before looking up again. "Primitive at best, I'm sure," Aeryn said, dismissively. She faced the huge probe. "We have no intention of boarding you, whatever you are. We are interested only in obtaining information that you can provide us with and then we will be on our way."

"Irrelevant. You are not cleared for access to information, Sun," the supercomputer replied. "Crew of Moya, you will board. Send two to make repairs. If you complete the program then you will be returned to your regular functions. Crew of Moya, accept program. If you fail to comply, then you will be deleted."

"Be deleted?" It was D'argo's turn to laugh. Pilot had now confirmed that the structure carried no firing weapons. "We are not a program that can simply be deleted."

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Pilot's voice said. "Because it appears we can."

"How d'ya mean?" asked John.

In response, Pilot said, "Moya is picking up the frequency of a vessel that has just entered the perimeter of her long range scans. It is still too far out of range to determine what sort of vessel it may be. However, the transmitter frequency configuration is unquestionably Peacekeeper."

"All Peacekeeper vessels transmit an ongoing signature code. To identify themselves to other ships and bases," Aeryn explained.

"Great, just what I need," John grumbled. Twice now Moya had been boarded by a Peacekeeper Marauder and both times the results hadn't been pretty.

"Just what we don't need," D'argo replied. "Does it detect us, Pilot?"

"Not now," Pilot said. "It appears our 'new programmer' is masking us from their sensors. If the whim should arise however, to send an alert signal to the vessel...." The rest of the crew could fill in the blanks.

"Can you give us time to think about this for a second?" John asked the dictatorial supercomputer. "Privately?"

"Your request is being processed," the emotionless voice of the machine replied.

"Meaning?" asked Aeryn.

"I think it's thinking about it," John answered, scratching his nose.

A loud click sounded. The eerie voice replied, "You have one arn. Ending transmission."

The structure's image disappeared from the clamshell. Then, static ensued and cleared as Pilot's image reappeared. "It is no longer monitoring our communications," he informed them, helpfully. The relief in his voice was plain to hear.

D'argo roared no longer suppressing his irritation. "I suggest we board that bald-faced metal mouth and silence it forever."

"Now that might not be the best plan," John replied.

"Do you have a better one?" Aeryn asked, looking at him sharply.

Rygel flew his chair near John's face, saying, "And I don't suppose you are actually suggesting we give in to the demands of a machine. I don't care how smart it is! The thing looks filthy, probably hasn't been cleaned in eons. I, for one, am not going over there."

"Listen Sparky!" John began, leaning away a little from the Hynerian to avoid hitting his chin on the rim of the hovering chair. He pointed at him in a scolding gesture. "You little thieving rascal! We just don't have the time. I've had just about enough of your, your--"

Rygel wrinkled his face in disdain. "You may spend your time anyway you like you blubbering ninny but if we should Starburst--"

"Moya's pregnant. We can't Starburst every time--"

"Stop it!" Zhaan broke into the controversy suddenly but forcefully. She held up her hand for silence and there was a dangerous blue flash in her eyes. Even during the most heated of disagreements, they all agreed that provoking Zhaan was something none of them desired. As silence fell, Zhaan eyed them all as if they were small children. She sighed. "I suggest we all go sit down and discuss this calmly and rationally. Whatever is decided, will be decided by the whole group."


	4. Probe

**A/N:** _Well, this was a longer chapter that required more editing :). Enjoy!_

**4**

And that's how Commander John Robert Crichton, Junior, human scientist and astronaut, lost in space with a motley crew of fugitives, found himself sitting in the cockpit of the Peacekeeper Prowler with ex-Peacekeeper officer Aeryn Sun at the flight controls, flying into the mouth of a probe which harbored the most advanced supercomputer think tank he had ever thought to encounter and wondering how a good day had faded away so fast.

"Somethin's gone wrong with the universe when a machine starts giving orders," John remarked. The argument on Moya had been that Crichton was the scientist and should be allowed to be one of the two to go because in this rare case "he would be needed in repairing the maintenance bots of the probe." He had interjected at this point into the discussion "or disabling the probe" and received from D'argo a humoring look and from Zhaan the comment, "It's good to be optimistic, John," which was almost as bad as the outright laughter of Rygel. Chiana, skipped through the discussion lightly, trying to add a tidbit to it here and there but being rapidly silenced every time.

John's thought was to take one of the transport pods over but then, Aeryn, for the first time, entered into the group's discussion. It had been taken for granted that her involvement in today's mission would be minimal for she was still recovering from a recent wound; none of them would have asked her to expend herself again so soon. "Unacceptable," she killed John's idea with one word. Then, she explained, "If the Peacekeeper force is alerted, a transport pod would not be able outrun them or even return to Moya before it became necessary to starburst. We cannot afford to lose the pod and Crichton is still learning how to fly it."

"Fine," John replied, a little resentful of the implication that he couldn't handle a transport pod. He'd roped Aeryn into giving him lessons on flying the Prowler and felt he wasn't half bad at it. Granted, the Prowler wasn't biomechanoid technology like the transport pod. Still, after that embarrassing incident this morn—well, earlier today--he balked at the memory. _Guess I owe her one_. He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the Sebacean. "What's your plan, Aeryn?"

"Only the Prowler would have a fighting chance and I could help Crichton with any equipment he may be unfamiliar with using," Aeryn had told the group, sedately. Her reasoning seemed sensible and had been accepted by the rest. Aeryn and John would be the two sent over to the probe.

"What about a back-up plan?" John had suggested, but no one seemed to be willing to hear him out as the arn allotted for their decision rapidly dwindled away. Still, he wasn't discouraged. Here was another chance to show he could be a useful rather than ignorant human being.

* * *

Aeryn's landing on the platform was the flawless performance of a skilled and experienced pilot. John waited while she went through the shut-down sequence and checked the pressure outside the cockpit. Evidently, an invisible force field had been erected after their passage through the mouth of the probe, keeping the vacuum of space outside.

John and Aeryn exited the Prowler. They were both wearing environmental suits (John having a new helmet since the incident with the flax) and John held up a hand held scanner to test the air. Pilot and Moya hadn't been able to determine the environment inside the probe. All their attempted scans of the interior's atmosphere had been blocked.

"Breathable," said John, interpreting the readings on the scanner. The different-colored lights on this particular technology had proven puzzling to both Aeryn and D'argo but John was pleased he had a knack for reading it.

Aeryn removed her helmet and set it near the Prowler. "Then, let's get to work, shall we?" she suggested, keeping her pulse rifle in readiness for the faintest hint of danger.

"Yeah." John took his helmet off and set it next to Aeryn's on the cold floor of the landing platform. He looked around the room they had entered. It was square with high walls. Above their heads, he could see there were other levels that could be reached by climbing ladders. "Let's unload the barrel."

"What barrel?" Aeryn asked.

"I brought along a few extra things, just in case. I was in the landing bay while you were getting those spare weapons, remember?"

"Yes." Aeryn looked like she thought this was a total waste of time. "What extra things?"

"Handy stuff." John smiled and went to get it. "Aw, c'mon, Aeryn. It's heavy."

"You should have thought of that before you packed it. I thought you said we wouldn't need a lot of tools. Why don't we do what we came to do and get out of here?" Although she would never have admitted it and she hid it well from the others, including Crichton, she hadn't exactly been feeling herself lately.

While she was speaking, John rolled the barrel out of the Prowler to the ground and sat it upright. Standing upright, the barrel just reached his chest. He looked at Aeryn with a strange expression on his face. She wasn't afraid of a little heavy duty work. He'd have to ask her about this later...when they were back on Moya.

"What?" she asked.

John shook himself from his observations instead and said, "Don't you think it's strange the computer hasn't talked to us once since we got in here?" He looked up again and began to pace in a small circle. Cupping his mouth with his hands he cried, "Yo! We're here. Now what?"

CLANG! Darkness engulfed them and the floor shifted beneath their feet. Then, there was a flicker as the lighting returned. Able to see again, John and Aeryn noted the landing platform they stood upon had been retracted inward further and the opening to space closed. They were now shut within the interior of the prism-like alien probe.

Aeryn was on full alert. "I don't like the looks of this," she said. Her eyes darted back and forth searching for movement.

"Well, I guess it knows we're here," John gulped. He deliberately raised his voice and jerked his head, putting on a false bravado that Aeryn recognized from the time they had dealt with the dog-like bounty hunting blood trackers planetside. "I said, 'we're here!' So hurry up and show us to the maintenance bots already!"

The lights above the landing platform dimmed to illuminate a single ladder which led upwards.

"Guess that's our invitation," John said, blue eyes peering at the shining ladder through half-closed eyelids.

They both shed the suits for the clothes they wore underneath which were more suitable for climbing. White shirts and black pants. Aeryn retained the rifle, but needing her hands and legs free for scaling the ladder, it was now slung by its strap over her back. John went up first, Aeryn came from behind him. The rungs of the ladder were slippery beneath their palms. John glanced at one of his hands and saw a sticky green mess had adhered to it. _Yuck_. He attempted to quell his disgust and kept on climbing.

It was obvious that no beings of flesh and blood had been here in a long time. The atmosphere was that of neglect and disrepair and the silence of the place was reminiscent of the few arns they had spent aboard the Zelbinion when they had come upon the PK tech girl. The air held the same kind of eerie silence. It gave John the creeps.

"Alright enough of this," John grunted as he reached what he was sure was the sixth platform. He stepped off of the ladder to alight on the floor of the level, wiping his hands on the leg of his trousers. "Super technology and they don't equip it with an elevator?" He spoke to no one in particular, trying only to break this foreboding silence. He glanced around the level upon which he now stood and caught sight of something. "Bingo!"

Aeryn climbed up after him and stepped from the ladder as well. "Bingo?" she repeated, seriously. "Crichton?" she asked, anxiously. Her eyes searched his face. He had that glimmer in his eye. The one she knew too well. The one that meant: I-have-a-plan.

John was already kneeling and examining what had caught his eye a greying (or should he say, greening) panel. It was located beneath a dusty computer screen. There was a small jagged crack running through the panel. He tried to slip his fingers underneath the crack to get a grip on it but the slime kept causing it to slip from his grasp.

"What are you doing?" Aeryn asked, painfully aware they still had to ascend the ladder to reach wherever this machine was guiding them in order to accomplish their task. Normally, the climb wouldn't have bothered her. She had a reserve of stamina and strength built from years of training. But the fact this recent exertion _had_ bothered her concerned her. She made a mental note of it then pushed the worry away. The sooner they finished this and got back to Moya the better.

"You know," John drawled. "A dog never pays any attention to its fleas...until the fleas bite!"

Aeryn raised an eyebrow. Not because of something he had said or done wrong but because she had actually understood what this human was trying to say. "Move away from that panel!" she ordered, undoing her rifle strap from her shoulder and, slime or no slime on her hands, taking a solid grip on her rifle. She was pleased that Crichton did not have to be told twice.

John took one look at Aeryn and scrambled promptly out of the way, taking up a position behind her. He had read the look in her eye. The same look she had given him right before applying a pantack jab to his person. She had an idea.

There was a hum as the rifle's chamber powered up. She took aim, pinpointed the target with deadly accuracy and pulled the trigger.

BLAST! Lightning leapt from the gun. The cracked panel broke from the wall, clattered to the floor, and skittered harmlessly across its surface before coming to rest. The panel directly next to it creaked from the extra stress, tottered, and then also fell heavily to the floor missing Aeryn's boot toes by mere centras.

"Did I bite hard enough?" Aeryn asked with a smile twisting around the edges of her mouth.

"Yeah and then some," John whispered, rubbing his chin and sniffing. The scent of charred metal now hung in the damp air. He pushed by Aeryn again and studied the exposed connections the panels had guarded. He found the connection he wanted and fingered it. "Alright now, Iydkwdg," John said. "Talk to me." He yanked the connection cord with all his might.

"Idickwidig?" Aeryn repeated, looking very puzzled indeed. "Are my translator microbes malfunctioning? Did you just call it that?"

"Iydkwdg. Just a little play on Coca-Cola." Sparks flew out of the end of the disconnected cord and John backed away from it slightly, releasing his hold upon it.

Well, so much for understanding his human expressions, Aeryn thought. "Coke aco--what?"

"It's a drink." He looked down at the fried panel he had backed up onto and then stepped off of it, kicking it aside.

"You're naming a highly advanced probe after a drink?"

"No," John smiled. He wondered if translator microbes could fully give the meaning what he was trying to convey in English. It was doubtful, but he moved closer to her and tried to explain it anyway. "Iydkwdg. Each letter stands for a word. Spelled out it says, If You Don't Know We Don't Go. Maybe this baby knows a thing or two 'bout wormholes and Earth." He patted the undisturbed portion of the probe's wall. "But if it don't know, we don't go."

Aeryn said, "Quite accurate. It's...it's interesting,"

Crichton gave her a look.

Aeryn quickly cleared her throat. "The expression I mean." She stepped away from him and moved towards the ladder but stopped as a loud clicking noise reverberated through the air.

The voice resonated throughout the structure. "UNAUTHORIZED ACTION!"

"That got your attention!" John shouted back at it. "Listen, Know-It-All, if you want us to repair your bots then we need to _communicate_. No more of this silent treatment. You get my drift?"

"You are a carbon-based life form which requires oxygen. You can be deleted," replied the imperious voice of the machine so matter-of-factly that John could feel his stomach start to coil.

He looked sharply at Aeryn. Had a hint of fear crossed her face? Nah, couldn't have been. More than likely, she had been calculating how fast they could descend and get into their environmental suits should the threat be carried out. The thought brought him a sense of calm. If she could handle this, he could handle this. The thought calmed him and the coiling feeling subsided. "You delete me and then who's going to repair your maintenance bots?" John challenged. "You need me." He looked at Aeryn and drummed his fingers across his comlink. "You need us. So let's talk. Okay?"

There were three loud clicking noises and one huge whirring wail that sounded almost like a sigh and then, "Affirmative. Communication initiated. Proceed upward to next horizon."

John grinned at Aeryn. Now, they were getting somewhere.


	5. Waiting

**5**

Chiana was thinking better of this little scheme. Being confined in such a small space was not her idea of a good time and she wondered why she had actually let the human talk her into this plot. He'd said it'd be a barrel of fun. Nothing fun about this so far. She hadn't bought his speech about becoming part of a team, but she had agreed to follow the rules when she saw the others follow them. Sure, it wasn't always fun but something amusing was bound to happen hanging around this crew. And when she got bored, she could always pester Rygel.

How had she gotten from that to this?

John Crichton had pulled her aside and remarked he'd heard her mention she was good at cracking computer codes. Would she join today's mission? She had been on the verge of saying no, but then he had mentioned casually that the others would know nothing about it...that she would be a secret back-up plan. The covertness and sneakiness of the idea had appealed to her. Especially after the others had refused to let her in on today's deliberation. He had told her she might become a heroine and save the day (she could care less about that) but he had added that she might earn their gratitude. The crew? Feel grateful? To her? When they barely even bothered to listen to a word she had to say. She'd almost laughed. Still, she was curious about what sorts of useful information the probe had to offer. It was so tempting, she couldn't refuse.

And when it came to cracking computer codes in secret, this was definitely a subject where she excelled. Her fingers almost itched with anticipation.

Only the human had neglected to tell her everything, Chiana puffed. Being curled up in this position was uncomfortable and Crichton had set the barrel down none to gently. At least that Sebacean female could have helped him a little with the barrel, so she could avoid bruising. Next time she made an agreement, it better include a non-boredom clause. Besides...it was getting stuffy in here. Had Crichton punched enough air holes in the lid?

Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tappity, tap. The sound came through her comlink. Her ears perked. The signal. All of Chiana's reflections vanished as she contemplated a new game. The lid flew off of the barrel and the petite Nebari emerged in an instant. In the next instant, only an empty barrel was left forsaken on the platform next to the silent Prowler.

* * *

_MOYA_

_Pilot's Chamber_

"I cannot," Pilot insisted for the third time. "The DRD's are searching every tier. Chiana is very adept at hiding."

D'argo nodded. He was standing in Pilot's chamber. "I have also been unable to locate her. Any word from Aeryn or John?"

Pilot looked down as one of his octupi-like arms reached to turn a knob on the console in front of him. He spoke during the action. "No. Although, Moya did momentarily detect a breathable atmosphere as the Prowler passed into the probe. I am still unable to establish contact with Officer Sun or Commander Crichton. I presume they are alive and when will contact us when they are able."

"What is the status of the Peacekeeper vessel?"

"It appears to be on a course towards the probe."

"Has it spotted us?"

"It is still to faraway to tell what its intentions are," Pilot wondered at how much he had to repeat himself. "As I have stated before, our signal is being masked by the probe."

D'argo nodded satisfied for the moment with Pilot's answer, but tortured by the inactivity. "What could be taking them so long over there?"


End file.
